Punisher
by luminary syvern
Summary: Frank Castle served as a MP in the military during Operation Iraqi Freedom, now home he investigates crimes down in the name of the man simply known as The King. When his investigation gets close to the one of The Kings human traffickers a hit is put on his head. His family is killed and he is left in a hole to die. "Your kind of men and their alias."
1. Chapter 1

Marty Bates had never been good with money, even as a young boy he'd spent it needlessly on anything and everything he had an impulse to buy. It hadn't been long until he realized he could try and make more at betting, on dice, on cards, anything and everything. Once he got older and he realized that he could borrow money- well things just went downhill from there. Soon he was up in to his ears in debt against the King and there was no way he was crawling his way out.

He'd tried to run, but running never did work did it? Not against someone like the King. They'd found him in less than a week, three thugs led by a giant of a man who had made Marty wet himself in fear. They had called him Barracuda, a chaser for the King. He stood nearly seven feet tall and was broader at the shoulders than Marty felt tall. He had sat heavily on the cheap, yellow-stained motel mattress and stared Marty in the eye. His eyes had been like little black coals in the dark-skinned man's face, showing no emotion.

"Marty, Marty, Marty.." Barracuda started and shook his head, "The King says you owe him quite a bit of money. He's told me to take anything I can get off of you." He lifted a massive hand and another one of the thugs reached roughly into Marty's urine soaked pants pulling out his flimsy wallet. Marty knew there was five one dollar bills in there, his license and not much else, he watched helplessly as the thug threw it to Barracuda.

"Marty." Barracuda said thumbing through the ones, "I don't think this will cover your expenses." With a sigh and shake of his head, "I think we are going to have to take a ride."

Hours later Marty lay shivering in a hole in the ground. It'd been dug specifically for him, his body fit inside it like a glove. He had been stripped of his clothing and left naked and alone. He could see the stars above but their cold light could do nothing for him, they were indifferent to his struggles. A shadow blocked him from the view and a gold tooth glinted in an open mouth, reflecting distant headlights.

"The King wants an example out of you, you were well known on the gambling circuit. Word will get out of your disappearance and anyone that owes the King will be paying him back, or suffering the same fat." Barracuda laughed, "Do you know once I was in a similar spot to you right now." With surprising grace the large man sat on the edge of the hole, a shotgun held loosely over his thigh.

"About six years ago I was in Africa. I was a year out of service and didn't have much else to do. These mercenaries hired me aboard. We went into this remote place to rid the country of some five hundred rebels. We got ambushed and captured, I took down five of them with my bare hands before they knocked me out. You should take note of that Marty. They led us on a naked march high up into these mountains and we had to dig holes just like this one." Barracuda smacked the dirty, "They didn't shoot us though, no, not that easy. Instead we were chained together and then to this old rusted tank. They told us we could die in our holes or try and survive."

Barracuda looked down at Marty, those coal black eyes narrowed and Marty shivered, "Three men I was with, they were all exhausted and delirious from the march, ready to die. I don't die though, not so easy. They delayed me, I was angry. I snapped the first man's neck and then because I had nothing sharp I chewed the flesh off his wrist until I could get the chain off. I repeated that on the next two. They screamed and fought but there was nothing they could do. I then broke the chain off the tank, ripped a whole rusted section off the thing and dragged it 10 kilometers through thick jungle to the nearest town before I collapsed. See Marty that is what a real man does to survive. He digs deep down where he needs to find that spark."

Barracuda lifted his arms and raised the shotgun, the barrel was pointed at Marty and Marty knew he was going to die. His mouth opened in a yell before the blast of the weapon shattered the still night air. Barracuda didn't have to check if he was still alive, the buckshot had down its job and more leaving splattered brain and skull fragments all over the hole. He stood and motioned the bulldozer forward and watched the dirt pile over Marty's remains.

He hefted the shotgun over his shoulder and turned away, realizing his phone was vibrating deep in his pocket. He pulled it out and looked at the large touch screen with a grin he hit the answer key. "Done deal boss." They always used boss over the phone, if anyone was listening in there was nothing to implicate the King.

"Good. I have another job for you. It needs to be public. Details on the 7th." A deep voice responded before the line went dead.

Barracuda grinned and pocketed the phone, "I love a public job."

Marty's body was found by the construction crew days later when heavy rain washed away most of the loose dirt. It was still raining heavily when the solid black sedan rolled up to the police tape. His coat wrapped tight around his body Frank Castle stepped out into the torrential downpour and walked through sucking mud, under the tape and to where forensics were doing their best to take pictures and gather evidence. He doubted much would come back, he knew who Marty Bates was. He'd been a well-known gambler, but also a good informant for the police. It was a shame he was dead, but Marty had gambled against the King, and everyone loses against the King.

"Castle." Detective Martin Soap met him near the edge of the crime scene, a black umbrella held over his head. Martin had been a good friend of Frank since young adulthood, together they'd been in the Military Police and when both he gotten out had joined the Police Department to do some good at home. Martin was a year older and always considered himself a year wiser. His red-brown hair was cut short a simple moustache accenting his face and hiding growing wrinkles. His brown eyes were hard and focused. "Marty Bates, shot to the head by a shotgun, probably 12-gauge, had to be King. They left his wallet on him, that is how we identified the body."

Frank nodded and leaned forward to look at the body, the rain had washed most of the dirt away and he could see where the upper half of Marty's face had been once. "A message," he responded and shook his head, "You better pay back The King or The King will turn you into dirt." Frank almost reached for a cigarette, then realized he had quit and dropped his hand.

"They won't find much here." Soap shook his head, "Still pining for those things?"

Frank nodded, "Maria would have my head if I started up again. Been going strong for nearly a month, crime scenes always make me want one though." He turned his head, "Has anything move forward on the Alyssa Pryce case?

Alyssa Pryce had been an innocent young woman whom they had found in an ally way near one of Cristu Bulat's drop houses. She had been twenty years old, with fair skin and dark black hair, she reminded Frank of his daughter. Her throat had been slashed and there had been marks of sexual abuse.

Of course the house had been abandoned and nothing tied her to Cristu in anyway. Cristu was a human trafficker who worked under The King, this much the department knew, but they'd never had anything to pin on him. Alyssa Pryce had been different than the usual eastern European traffic that Cristu practiced in. She'd been someone's daughter, a rich business man who had demanded the Romanians head. Soap and Frank had been put on the case and so far they hadn't had much luck.

"Actually the tech heads found some skin under her nails, they are hoping we can get a match on Cristu. They are working on a warrant now to seize him and get a DNA test done. It's getting roped up in some bureaucratic bullshit though, probably the Kings doing." Soap responded.

Frank nodded, The King had his fingers everywhere, always searching and groping for something or someone new to control. "Let's get out of this rain, Henry's Diner is just down the road and they have good coffee," he suggested, "We can't do much else here." He took one last look at the remains of Marty Bates before turning back to his car. Soap followed behind and they both took a breath inside the warmth of the car.

"The King is getting bolder," Frank observed as he cautiously backed out past the other parked cruisers. Soaps own car was parked on the street, they'd return after to get it. Frank drove a quick half mile down to the road where Henry's Diner sat on a corner. The parking lot was mostly empty which wasn't surprising, the diner served the construction crews and they weren't working in the weather today. Frank pulled as close to the building as he could and Soap and him jogged up the stairs and inside.

A friendly blonde waitress named Helen met them at a host stand with a big smile, "Hi Detectives." They'd been here before, at least four times in the last year for similar murders. Frank and Soap both greeted her and were then escorted to a booth. Old leather crunched underneath them as they sat and the table was marred with coffee stains but the food was good.

"Let's see if I can remember, two guys over medium with homefries and cheese for you Frank and a shortstack of French toast with sausage for you Martin. Right?" Helen smiled still holding the menus.

"You got it." Frank smiled, "And 2 piping hot coffees, got a fresh batch on?"

"As always." Helen smiled and turned to go put their order in and get the coffee.

"I can't believe how violent they are getting," Soap mused looking outside, "I mean last year we found Greg Hamlin in a similar hole but he'd been simply shot in the chest and left for dead. Do you think The King is using a new guy?"

"It could be. I wouldn't be surprised if he used multiple guys." Frank replied and smiled to Helen as she set a large coffee mug down in front of both of them and filled each about 2/3s of the way. Then remembering she topped Franks off, he liked it black.

"No I think a guy like The King uses only his most trusted men to do hits like this. No traces, no connection or witnesses. I think someone beat out the last guy and is top dog now. For all we know any of the last 4 bodies we found could have been the last guy." Soap argued, Frank knew how Soap's brain worked and he would be trying to figure it out for the rest of the week.

"It could be and we'll probably never know the way The King works, I mean we don't even have a name or face of the guy. He is just The King." Frank responded, "I think we should take any leads we can with Alyssa Pryce, at least we can do some good and get Cristu off the street and put a stopper on The King's human trafficking."

Soap nodded, "I suppose you are right, eventually he is going to slip though and we are going to drag that anonymous bastard to prison"

"I hope so," Frank said and looked out at the pounding rain, if only so his family could feel safe in this city again.

An hour later Frank found himself cruising slowly down his street. He had dropped Soap back off at his car shortly after eating and they agreed to talk more about the case tomorrow and hopefully see any evidence the forensics guys had collected. He was cruising slowly because a black windowless van was parked at the entrance of his driveway. It had no markings and Frank could not remember having called anyone to come fix anything.

It pulled out his cellphone and unlocked the number, he direct dialed the nearest police sub-station which was situated in the strip mall a couple blocks over. It ringed twice before a dull male voice picked up, "Plaza Police Station."

"This is Detective Frank Castle, I live at 65 Deerfield Street, I'd like to report a suspicious van parked outside of my home." Frank pulled to the curb opposite his house and looked across at the building. It was a modest home, two levels, one and a half baths, and four bedrooms. Maria had wanted more space for the kids outside and more money for their college funds and Frank had agreed. His eyes fell on the front door and his cell phone slipped out of his hand when he saw the front door wide open.

He didn't feel the rain as he ran across the street and then the front yard. He didn't even remember drawing his pistol but the weight was suddenly in his hand, it was warm from being pressed against his side in the car. He stopped at the threshold of the door and thought about yelling for Maria, or for Francis or Lisa but he realized it would give him away. Inside the house was dark, he couldn't see any lights. He crouch walked inside, giving him a lower silhouette coming in from the bright outside, his hand jerked to aim upstairs.

It was painfully slow going as he cleared the bottom floor, while in the kitchen he heard a thud from upstairs and almost called out. He crept slowly up the stairs which dog legged up to the second floor. He turned slowly to aim up at the landing and saw nothing. His eyes had adjusted to the dark by now and when he reached the second floor hallway he could see a trace of blood on the carpet. His heart already beating faster, increased in pace. A shaft of light showed between the edges of a door and the frame, he realized it was his bedroom. This place felt alien though, different from what it had been, and it didn't feel like his home.

He pushed the door open slowly, wanting to call out still and still realizing that the van was outside which meant that whoever was here was still here. His breath left him when the door was all the way open. Maria sat on the bed resting against the headboard he head leaning to one side. Her dark hair fell in front of her pale face that was flecked with drops of blood. Eight year old Francis was pressed against her from the right his face still buried under her arm. Lisa was on the other side, her three year old face pointed at the ceiling her eyes half closed. All were riddled with bullet holes, the once green and white bed spread had been soaked to a dark crimson almost black. Frank felt all the feeling fall from his body and his knees hit the floor. The wall behind was peppered with holes telling the tale.

"Maria…" He choked before throwing up. He'd seen horrors in his life both in the military and as a detective, but this, it was something he couldn't comprehend. His gun fell from his fingers when he lifted his head. He thought he heard a sound but suddenly there was darkness.

Horror filled his mind, macabre images of his family floating past his field of vision staring at him in judgment. Where were you he could hear them saying when we were killed. Off being the hero again? He tried to reach for them and tell them that he never meant for them to get hurt. He could never reach them, they were too far or too fast. He cried out for them to forgive him, for them to come back. They never responded.

He awoke to the smell of wet earth and his hands clawed groggily at the soil trying to move himself. He could see stars above, the rain must have stopped. He was in a hole, six feet deep and just his length. Frank moved to sit up, to stand and a voice called out.

"No, no, Frank, sit down." A huge man sat on the edge of the hole right above his head a shotgun across his lap. A sound of a truck backing up was muffled by the deepness of the hole but Frank had a feeling he knew what was coming.

"Who are you?" Frank croaked out, "Why did you kill my family?" His head felt heavy and he gingerly touched a welt on the side of his head, they must have hit him with something.

"You were getting too close. King doesn't like when his investments are threatened, especially not by some two-bit detective." His kidnapper said. "Since you will die, I will tell you. I am Barracuda."

Another name that meant nothing, another name that wasn't a true name. Frank shook his head, "Your kind of men sure do love alias." Frank said and slumped to his knees again. Images of Maria and the children ran through his head and he looked up angrily at Barracuda, "When I get out of this hole I am going to hunt you down and kill you." His eyes narrowed and Barracuda just grinned a glint of gold capped teeth.

"If you get out of this hole I will personally be making you a visit sometime soon, I am sure." Beeping got louder and Barracuda swung his legs out of the hole keeping the shotgun trained on Frank now, "I hope you can swim."

Frank looked to the side as the end of a cement trough slid over the hole already spewing the liquid concrete. It landed on him like a weight and he had to press his hands into the ground at his knees to support it. He took deep breaths as the material began to fill the hole, soon it was up to his chest and pressing all around. A moment later he took a deep breath and it covered his head. His eyes burned with hatred staring at Barracuda who just stood there and smiled before he too disappeared from view.


	2. Chapter 2

Frank was submerged in muck, the only thing keeping him conscious the air still in his lungs. He couldn't open his eyes and he could only hear the thumping of his panicking heart in his chest. It felt like a ton of weight was pressing down on him. If he could stand he'd be able to push up through the muck. Images of Maria and the children flashed through his mind. Barracuda had done this, The King had done this. They had to pay for what they did, justice had to be served.

With his lungs burning he pushed with his arms and knees. His head tilted back so that his nose or mouth would break the surface first. He spread his arms slowly through the already drying cement and used it to push himself up toward the surface the movement draining the strength in his arms. Frank had always tried to stay fit after he left the service. It had been hardwired into his brain during PT but now he felt inadequate.

Inadequate to protect Maria and the children. Anger rose up in him and with one last push his head cleared the surface of the pool and he took a deep breath of air before coughing hard. Without his chest clear it was hard to inhale to maximum and he found himself taking quick short breaths. His body was screaming, it had been a short climb to the top but the weight of the cement had made it seem like he was shifting tons of material. He clawed at the surface and pulled himself toward the edge. The cement truck was already empty and no one was around the hole, they had been so sure he was dead.

It took nearly the rest of his energy to pull himself onto solid ground. Cement clung to him like a second skin, he could feel it already drying on his pores. He took a minute to catch his breath, chest heaving. The whole construction yard was illuminated by giant white lights. There was a hut near the fence where a softer orange glow could be seen in the windows. Frank felt he knew Barracuda would be in there.

It took a moment to gather his strength again, adrenaline wearing off. Maria and the children flashed through his mind again, no matter how tired he was he had a job to do. He pulled off his sports coat and dropped the cement soaked garment on the dirt. Then with another push he lifted himself to a standing position and walked foot by foot toward the hut. Instinct was thrown to the wind and he didn't put himself behind any cover on his approach, exhaustion had stripped him of any self-perseverance.

He made it to the hut without anyone emerging from it, he heard laughter inside. He placed himself to the side with the knob. The step up was two blocks of wood, one slightly larger than the other. He kicked it the side and lifted his hand, knocking lightly on the door. The laughter died and he heard talking instead, his body tensed, he had no idea what he was getting into nor how many there were. Maria and the children deserved it though.

A younger thug opened the door, his eyes were looking forward and not to the side where Frank was, Frank watched him swing the door open and start to take a step out. As soon as his foot hit still air Frank was on him, jerking the leg down while the other was still on the floor of the hut. He heard a crack and the man screamed, without pause Frank reached into the man's coat and pulled out a pistol, he didn't have time to check the make and model. He lifted it and aimed at the next man he could see inside and pulled the trigger.

Frank wondered if he looked like some kind of swamp monster covered in the drying muck. The second man inside had two bullets through his chest and Frank was already turning to the next, clearing the hut from the door when he could. He pulled the trigger a total of six more times before the gun clicked empty, by that time each man in the hut was dead. No Barracuda, no hulking monster of a man. Frank pulled himself up into the hut and grabbed a fresh pistol off a man in a suit, marred by blood that seeped out of his wounds.

The man outside was still groaning in pain so Frank only took a quick stock of the men in the hut, all were thugs, all low on the totem pole. He stepped back out, stepping over the man with the broken leg. He rolled him over on his back, the movement promoting a hiss out of his target. He applied his foot on the broken limb, "Where's Barracuda?"

"I don't know, ah, I swear!" The man yelped at the pressure of his foot, "He said he something to do and took a couple guys. I swear!"

Frank believed him and he held the pistol out to aim down at him, "Did you go my house today?"

"I was the driver man, I didn't go in or do nothing."

Frank almost aimed away, but then he remembered the van, empty, not a single person in it. He thought of Maria, protecting their children. More than one gun had fired in that room, he pulled the trigger and the man stopped groaning. Frank turned his head and looked around what he could see of the construction yard, where could Barracuda have gone? Back to the King?

He thought of finding a phone and calling the police but that thought was soon banished when the van he had seen outside his house came rolling around a stone pile. It stopped its headlights boring into him. Frank lifted his pistol and opened fire at the same time both doors flew open. Barracuda came out of one, another man out of the other, both had long rifles in their hands, their silhouttee and the reports that followed calling AK47 to Franks memory.

Frank was running before he stopped firing, he could hear the rounds passing close. He dove toward the side of the hut, hoping to crawl to the back when he felt blinding pain in his shoulder. Another jab of heat ran up from his kidney and he was stumbling forward coughing hard. He crawled behind the hut, a small wooden support wall between him and his attackers. He could feel blood escaping his both and he knew the wounds would be mortal unless he could get medical help. He looked around, body screaming in pain and spied a gap under the fence behind the hut, leading out into the darkness.

His body screamed worse than when he had pulled himself from his cement tomb, every moment pumped more blood out of his body. Barracuda and the other man were talking, getting closer. Frank pushed with every ounce of strength he had left, the fence digging into his neck and dragging on his clothes. Fingers worked furiously on the buttons of his shirt, left arm screaming each time he moved his hand. His shirt came undone and he pulled himself out from under the fence and a few feet further onto a hard surface. He realized it was pavement, he moved himself vertical and with great effort rolled himself across.

He heard Barracuda and the other man coming around the hut but by then Frank had pulled himself out of the wash of light from the overhead lights. He held his pain in, watching them stare out at the darkness, their voices were whispers from here and he watched them argue about something and then run back around to the front of the hut. Frank coughed and felt himself relax, he felt so tired, so ready for sleep.

Headlights flashed across his vision and he braced himself for the coming pain, but instead his mind let go and he felt the world go dark. For the second time in twenty-four hours the undead phantoms of his wife and children danced in his mind.


	3. Chapter 3

Maria's face flashed before his eyes along with a strobing light and shadows passing over him. All of the faces looked like Maria, and then Francis and then Lisa. A myriad of voices droned out any words his mind tried to grasp, gunshot, police, dropping blood pressure. At one point he felt a needle go in and his body began to go numb. No he thought, not again, not back to them. He fought to stay conscious as the images floated up to the surface again. Blood covered sheets swirled around him wrapping him tightly, Maria and the children floating, screaming at him.

"Why weren't you there for us? You promised me after the war you would never leave!" Maria screamed.

"Daddy, I called for you, you didn't come. What about the monsters of the world?" Francis yelled eyes full of tears.

Lisa just stared at him with her wide eyes, blood soaked thumb in her mouth. Barracuda walked up behind her and raised his assault rifle.

Frank screamed, silently, the sheet tightening around him. Suddenly he was awake and sitting up in the hospital bed, alarms going off as he pulled wires off with the sudden motion. His shoulder hurt and his side. Cold sweat ran down his body and he had to fall back on his pillow in pain. Martin Soap was standing, he had been sitting next to the bed.

"Frank! Calm down." He put his hands on Franks shoulder and Frank relaxed a little and panting leaned back. "It's… It's okay Frank. It's okay." Frank could see the pain in his eyes.

"I... what happened?" Frank looked around as the hospital room, it all to himself.

"A woman found you on the side of the road outside of a construction site covered in concrete. Her husband got you into their truck and they drove you here." Soap explained, "Plaza Police responded but when no one answered the door they didn't investigate- the house looked deserted. When we found you, I lead the team myself…"

He didn't have to say more, Frank knew what they found. He turned his head away, "I couldn't protect them Martin." Tears began to form in his eyes, "I should have been there."

Martin put his hand on his shoulder, "Frank there was nothing you could've done. I don't know why they targeted you. We are doing our best to get the guy that did this."

Franks brain was foggy but Barracuda floated to his mind, "A huge man, dark-skinned. He goes by Barracuda."

Martin nodded, "Another alias, but it's something to go by. Frank…"

Frank turned and looked at him and watched him pull his small revolver out from a holster on his ankle. "If you've seen someone they are going to try and get to you." Martin handed the pistol grip first towards him.

He nodded and reached out his hand taking the grip of the revolver and sliding it under the sheets ad under his leg, "We got to get this guy, if we get him we can get the King." Frank forced a smile on his face, "and put that bastard behind bars."

Martin nodded and gripped his shoulder, "We went to the construction site. There was nothing there."

"There were people there, King's men. I shot them to escape, they were in the construction hut." Frank tried to think back, to remember.

"They were all gone Frank, no shells on the ground, no blood. It's like you were never there. There was a freshly poured cement block but the crew was already working on it adding another block. Some parking garage for the airport is going in there." Martin explained, "We will keep looking. Get your rest, I will bust my ass on the case Frank."

Frank nodded, "Thanks Martin."

His friend give his shoulder a squeeze and then left the room, Frank caught a glimpse of a uniformed guard outside. It relaxed him for a moment and he turned to look out the window. Ideas of death floated to him, he could die and be done with it. Maria flashed once again in his mind.

"Give me up on our justice Frank?" Her voice was softer now, her hand cupping his face, "You cannot give up."

"I cannot give up." Frank muttered.

"Give up on what?" A voice whispered, soft and female.

His eyes jerked open and he realized it was night, how long had he been out? A red headed woman dressed in a lab coat stood at the window staring outside. In her hand a pistol rested on a clipboard, a suppressor tightened around the barrel. The uniformed cop stood inside the door now watching.

"Who.." Frank felt the grip of the pistol under his fingers and leg.

"No need for names Mr. Castle. You escaped once, such a shame. The fish usually gets his prey no matter what." Vibrant green eyes turned to him underneath simple black spectacles, "He toys with his prey much too much, the man should be called a cat."

She gripped the pistol and aimed it toward him, "Me, I like my prey awake- feeling the fear of its impending death. Feeling the predator about to strike." She smiled a rosy red smile.

Frank jerked his hand up and the revolver blasted like a cannon in the quiet hospital room. The woman jerked in surprise and yelled in pain. Frank pulled his aim to the side and shot at the uniformed cop as he went for his pistol. Frank ignored the pain searing through him and he pulled himself up off the bed ripping out wires and tubes. He pulled the trigger twice more at the woman on the ground and then once more at the cop. He wasn't safe here, too many cops on the payroll. Where could he go? He watched the life slip out of the cops eyes, he wasn't safe anywhere.

Wincing at the pain he stumbled into the hall looking for any more attackers. He held his side and ran down the hall on bare feet, soon they'd be looking for him. The stairwell door opened and he pounded down the stairs ignoring the pain in his body. Evil and good he had just made an enemy of both, where in the city could he go?


End file.
